Island of Misfit Toys
by Person002
Summary: Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he's angry. Angry at the Joker for killing him. Angry at Batman for not avenging him. Angry at the world for dealing him this sucky hand. When Jason strikes out on his own, he meets two others plagued by same demons as he: another fallen protégé, and a teenage assassin. The three band together to fight crime - but they do so on their own terms.
1. Kindred Spirits

**This is just a little plot that was been plaguing me forever. Maybe it's stupid, idk.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice. Just Talon.**

* * *

"Not so fast." A sharp object came flying out of nowhere, knocking the gun from Jason's hand and pinning it against the wooden telephone pole. The tip of the blade just barely sliced Jason's finger, ripping a slit in his glove and prompting a thin line of red to rise to the surface of his skin. Jason whirled around, teeth gritted with frustration beneath his crimson colored mask. He half expected to see Batman descending from the shadows, but instead of an imposing figure in a cowl and cape, the object – which Jason then realized was a knife, not a batarang like he'd assumed – had been thrown by a teenage girl. She was dressed in all black, with her dark curly hair piled on her head in a loose bun. She was frowning at him, her lower lip protruding in a pout.

"You got a problem with my killing him?" Jason snapped, voice gruff. He kicked the man propped against the telephone pole beneath Jason, eliciting a groan from the bloodied figure. The former Bat had hacked into the police files, and found one on this man. He had been wanted for multiple counts of sexual assault, petty theft, and attempted murder – in other words, he was basically a shitbag who didn't deserve to walk the Earth. At Jason's question, a slow smile spread across the girls face. She moved forward quickly, shoving Jason aside before he could react. The dark haired teenager stumbled, grunting, and raised his hand to hit back. Girl or no girl, no one shoved him around. But what she did next made him freeze.

In a movement so fluid that it seemed perverse in the manner it was being used, the girl had flicked another knife from her belt, painting a red smile across the mans throat in a single motion. His eyes were wide with panic as he spent his last few moments of life choking on his blood. The girl straightened up, wiping the blood off the knife on her pants, just above her knee.

"No problem with his death," she said, finally answering Jason's question. She turned towards him, face set in a frown. "But he was _my_ kill. Not yours." Jason stepped forward, inexplicably drawn in by her high cheekbones and full lips. Her skin was the color of brown sugar. Her voice was melodious, her facial features delicate. Almost everything about her preached sweetness and purity - everything except her eyes. They were dark and angry - her eyes were that of a killer, of a human so plagued by demons that they were nothing but a broken shell of what they used to be.

Looking at her, Jason was nearly certain that she could and would kill him the instant he let his guard down. The knife she'd thrown at his gun had been deadly accurate. But for some reason, she intrigued Jason. _Eyes are the windows to the soul,_ he thought. He pulled off his red mask, and then his domino mask underneath, revealing his own face. He looked nothing like her, and yet, their cold and empty eyes could have been a mirror image of one another. By the girls intake of breath, Jason knew that she knew it, too.

Jason had found a kindred spirit.

* * *

Her name was Althea. She was fifteen years old, a little younger than he, and she had been living on the streets of Gotham for almost a year. She told him all this only after he'd spilled his guts to her - his death, his resurrection, and his fury. The two of them were drinking coffee, sitting on the top of an apartment complex with their feet over the ledge of the roof as they talked.

"What do you call yourself?" She asked. Jason stared at her, confused. He'd already introduced himself.

"Um…Jason?" Althea rolled her eyes, gesturing to the red mask lying next to the two teens.

"When we're working, idiot." Jason had only known her for a few hours, but he was quickly learning that she had very little patience. He let himself be briefly warmed by the use of 'we,' but quickly shut down his happiness. _It might mean nothing,_ he reminded himself.

"Oh. Nothing." The girl shook her head disparagingly, clicking her tongue.

"Well, that won't do. How ridiculous to call out 'Nothing!' as a warning when you're about the get clobbered in battle?" Jason was staggered. He couldn't believe that she was talking as though they'd made plans to work together even though they'd only known each other for a few hours. He was about to ask her about that when something else that she'd said caught his attention and flared his anger.

"What makes you think that I'm the one who'd be getting clobbered?" Jason asked, annoyed. Althea smirked at him lazily, blowing the steam off her coffee.

"'Cuz I'm better," came her drawling reply. From anyone else it would have sounded childish. From this enigma of a girl, however, it sounded haughtily self-confident. Jason rolled his eyes. The two teenagers lapsed into silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "How about Red Hood?" Jason frowned.

"Red…Hood?" He remembered what they were talking about. "Oh." Then he remembered how Joker's first criminal name had been Red Hood. As usual, when Jason thought about the stupid creepy clown, little flames of anger began to lick at his inside and crawl up his spine. "Red Hood? Seriously?" He glared at Althea, who stared back unflinchingly. She knew what she'd said, clearly.

"I dunno, your outfit certainly fits the bill. Besides, it's ironic. I like irony." Jason scowled at the ground.

"But I'm _not_ an insane clown," he muttered, seething quietly. Althea leapt to her feet. The sun had started to rise, and she was getting antsy about being out in broad daylight. Besides, she was tired.

"Of course you're not," she said, her voice slightly muffled as she lowered her own mask over her face. "You seem plenty sane to me."

Jason couldn't tell for sure if her statement was supposed to be sarcastic or reassuring.

* * *

"So, you're a with the Court of Owls? You're a Talon?" Jason asked, gesturing to the white mask that was once again hanging from her belt. She'd removed it from her face again when they'd entered a dark alley way, one too dirty and sketchy for most people to go in willingly. Something flickered on her face. It was too quick, too small for him to read if it was anger, fear, or sadness. Maybe all three.

"I'm not _a_ Talon," she replied peevishly. "I'm Talon." She turned towards him, looking him straight in the eye. "I left the Court last year, and I have no plans of returning. I decided that I want to make the decisions on who deserves to live and die." A few years ago, that statement would have made Jason wary of this girl. Now, in a twisted way, it made sense.

"Oh," Jason managed eloquently. She shrugged, continuing her brisk walk down the alley way. Jason hastened his step in order to keep up.

"Not that it's any of your business," she added, staring resolutely forward. Jason grinned at her, stepping in front of her and catching her gaze. He had to walk backwards to do this, but the startled look on her face from his sudden mood swing was worth it.

"It is if we're planning on working together," he reminded her, leaning in closer. Althea's lips tipped up at the corners, the barest hint of white teeth showing between her plump lips.

Anyone else could have plucked the moon from the sky and presented it to Jason on a silver platter, and it wouldn't have been enough. But this barely-there smile from a girl Jason hardly knew? Somehow it was enough and more.

* * *

Soon after, the duo became a trio. Talon and Red Hood met Arsenal, the roaming ex-protégé of Green Arrow. The redhead was filled with bitterness at his mentor and at Cadmus, at Luthor and at the loss of his life and his arm. Red Hood could sympathize.

Red Hood remembered the search for the real Roy Harper that the Cadmus-made clone had instigated from when Jason had still been Robin. And now, the clone was apparently out of the game, and the real Harper was angry, alone, and addicted to heroin. Talon and Red Hood helped him get clean, only for him to become dirty again in another way. The blood from the lowlifes who crawled around Gotham and Star City that stained his hands filled him with a sick pleasure, the same way it did for Red Hood. The same way it did for Talon.

Together, the three tormented souls fought crime in their own way, on their own agenda, their own terms. They did what needed to be done, what Batman and Green Arrow and the rest of the League and the Team couldn't stomach.

Together, the three teenagers blazed a path. _Their_ path. A path forged from the anger of betrayal. A path full of sharp edges and broken pieces, of misery and fury.

Perhaps it wasn't exactly what they wanted, but it was exactly what they needed.

Because, yeah, they weren't insane.

But they weren't quite all sane either.

* * *

 **This is a Young Justice fic because Jason Todd has no screen time, which means he has no personality and I could kind of take creative liberty with it. That's the only reason.**


	2. Dirty Hands and Bitter Hearts

**TheAmberShadow: Thanks, I have fixed it.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice, only Talon/Althea.**

* * *

Roy glanced back and forth furtively before sliding down the alleyway. He was dressed plainly in civvies, a long sleeved hoodie hiding his mechanic arm. The redhead spotted a familiar figure deeper into the alley, and he clenched his fingers in anticipation.

Shoving his hand into his pocket and running his fingers over the loose bills his hand found there, Roy began to walk towards his dealer. The young woman looked up at him when Roy reached her. She grinned at him, showing off the gap between her two front teeth.

"Hey there, Red," she greeted him. Roy grimaced, the nickname reminding him of Red Arrow. _The clone that they all like better,_ Roy thought bitterly. He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his money and offering it to her. The girl smirked, and shook the little Ziploc bag of drugs up and down. Roy's heart thumped faster at the sight of it, imagining the rush running through his veins. He reached out to take it.

"Ouch!" Roy's dealer yelped in pain, dropping the bag to the ground. Roy started, looking around for the source of her pain. It had come in a knife that had hit the bag out of her grasp, bringing blood to the surface of the palm of her hand in the process. His dealer swore under her breath, licking the blood off of her palm.

"Don't move," the order came from a female voice hidden in the shadows. Roy slunk back, ducking his head. He didn't want whatever hero that was performing this drug bust to see him. But before he could make his escape, someone else came up behind him and pressed a gun into his back.

"Same goes for you, buddy," a male voice warned. Roy stayed still, considering his options. His mechanic arm was fully charged, but the withdrawal was making him sluggish, and he doubted that he could move quickly enough to disarm the person behind him without being shot. So he stood still, watching the thrower of the knife descend from the shadowy fire escape above his head.

The culprit was a girl with a lot of curly hair peeking out over the white mask that covered her entire face. She was dressed in dark clothes, spinning another sharp dagger around, her middle finger stuck through the hole in the hilt. Roy's dealer backed up from the girl instinctively, her back hitting a wall.

"Angela, is it?" The girl spoke again, pointing her knife at the young woman. Roy watched as she swallowed hard, nodding her head nervously. "Pretty name," the other girl said. "Too bad it doesn't match your personality, hm? Then I wouldn't have to be doing this." At this, Angela's eyes hardened and she smirked at the curly haired girl.

"So you're going to kill me as a punishment for my killing of others?" Angela snorted. "Yeah, that makes sense. You and I are in the same boat – there's no difference." The curly haired girl laughed humorously. She flicked her wrist, and the dagger flew from her hand. Angela's head slid back and to the side, and she slumped forward, falling to the ground.

"Yes there is," the girl told the body in front of her. "I kill people who deserve it. Roy took a deep breath, swallowing his revulsion at the scene in front of him. But, disgusted though he was, something about what had just happened pumped a different kind of high than he was used to through his veins.

"Who are you?" The man holding Roy at gunpoint spoke again, giving his shoulder a little shove to emphasize his question.

"My names Oliver," Roy answered, saying the first name that came to his head. He felt the gun behind him dip, and Roy relaxed his shoulders. He let his guard down just a little too soon, however, because a fist rose up, hitting him across the face and knocking him to the ground. Roy groaned.

"I'm going to ask you again." The man's voice was even, and icy-cold. "This time, don't lie. Who are you?" Roy raised his head. He didn't recognize the voice of the person who was speaking, and looking up didn't help. The young man was wearing a red mask that covered his entire face. When Roy looked up, however, the man's eyes widened. "Roy?" he asked, voice conveying clear confusion. "What? You look so young." The tone of his voice had completely changed, and the other man now sounded much younger.

"Hood – you know him?" The girl spoke again, kneeling next to Roy. The man – Hood – nodded.

"He's a friend, I guess. But he looks different."

"I'm the original," Roy spoke now. "You probably know the clone." Hood nodded, his masked face relaxing as though this made sense. _It_ _probably_ _did,_ Roy thought, stomach twisting.

"So they found you."

"Yeah, they found me," Roy snarled. "And they gave up on me." That wasn't quite true, but Roy was stubborn. "Why'd you kill my dealer? I needed a fix." The girl scoffed, shaking her head and standing.

"Your dealer is a murderer, Roy." She told him. The girl pulled her mask off, exposing her face. She was younger than Roy had expected, probably around the same age as he was biologically – fifteen. "My name's Althea. This is Jason. It's nice to meet you." Roy nodded absentmindedly, but he wasn't fully paying attention. He was starting to shiver, and he suddenly felt really dizzy. He could hear the two other teenagers talking, but it was more like hearing a low buzz in the back of his brain than hearing words. Someone wrapped their arms around his chest, pulling him to his feet. The last thing he registered before going unconscious was the feeling that something in his life was finally going to be fixed.

* * *

Roy drifted in and out of consciousness for the following week. The only times he wasn't sleeping were during times of such intense nausea that it woke up him. After seven days of anxiety dreams and nightmares, Roy finally woke up to the bright light streaming through the window next to his bed.

"Morning, sunshine," someone was speaking to him in a sarcastic drawl. Roy looked up, eyes adjusting to the sunlight. A boy was standing in the doorway. He had dark messy hair and a permanent scowl etched onto his face. He held out a steaming cup. "Coffee?" he asked. Roy nodded automatically, reaching a hand out. The other boy handed the cup over and took a sip of his own, watching Roy carefully.

"You must be Jason," Roy said. Jason nodded. "Who are you?" The raven haired teen laughed sardonically.

"I used to be Robin – the second one. Went after Joker on my own and got beat to death." His face darkened dangerously. "Batman didn't avenge me." Roy stared at the boy, his brain catching up to what he'd said.

"You look pretty alive to me," Roy said. Jason shrugged, looking away.

"Yeah, pretty unclear on that myself, to tell you the truth. Woke up in coffin with no idea who I was or how I got there and clawed my way out. Talia al Ghul found me wandering around and revived my memory with the Lazarus Pit, or something like that." He surveyed Roy coolly. "What about you? How'd you get addicted to crack?" Roy flinched.

"It's a long story," he muttered. Jason watched him for a minute longer and then stood up, shrugging.

"Fine. You're through the worst stages of withdrawal now. So…take a shower. You reek."

* * *

When Roy got out of the shower, he met Jason and Althea in the kitchen of the apartment they'd taken him to. There, the two other teenagers gave him an offer. He could ride with them, fight crime using deadly force like they did, or they would dump him back on the streets, where he would likely crawl back into the same cycle that he'd been in before they'd found him. Roy chose the former.

And, he discovered when he made his first kill – a middle aged guy who'd been abusing his girlfriends since high school – that even though he hadn't thought he'd been one for teammates, it wasn't the _team_ he was with that put him off.

It was how the team _worked_.

And this team, with their dirty hands and bitter hearts, this team worked well for him.

* * *

 **Please leave a review and let me know what you think - also, updates on this are going to be pretty slow, because I'm not basing the plot off anything. If there's something you want to see, let me know and maybe I'll write it.**


	3. Sorry, Dickiebird

**To TheAmberShadow and prettykittyluvsu: Thank you so much!**

 **Split this up into two parts cuz DRAMA. Also, about to leave for a week and wanted to get at least some of it out before then.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Young Justice, and the idea for this plot came from a Teen Titans comic (Life and Death). Don't own that, either.**

* * *

"Jason, this is getting unhealthy." Roy's voice came from behind the dark-haired teen. Jason clenched his hand into a fist, whipping around and glaring at the redhead.

"Like you're in a good position to lecture me about health, Harper," Jason snapped. Roy didn't even bat an eyelash. It had been almost two months since they'd picked him up from that dark alley in Star City, and he had quickly grown accustomed to Jason's short temper.

"Roy's right, Jay," Althea spoke now, coming up from behind the other fifteen year old. Jason fixed his glower on her, but it had no effect on her either. That was the problem with having such good friends, Jason thought. He couldn't intimidate them.

"Whatever," Jason muttered, turning back to the computer screen. He'd hacked into security cameras around Gotham City, and was following the progress of the current Robin. After doing a little bit of research, Jason discovered that his _replacement_ was named Tim Drake, and that he was good. Very good. In fact, he'd heard buzz that people that this _replacement_ was a better Robin than Jason had been. Not to mention the fact that Bruce didn't care enough about Jason to avenge his death...red spots danced over his vision as he thought this, anger clouding his mind. His nails dug into the palm of his hands, bringing blood to the surface.

"– son. Jason." The dark-haired boy looked up, blinking away the water in his eyes. Althea was standing over him wearing her Talon uniform, mask dangling from her hand. He could see Arsenal behind her, arms crossed. She narrowed her dark eyes at him. "We're going to do some surveillance. Want to come?" Jason shook his head, rolling his eyes. Surveillance was by far the most boring part of their job, but arguably the most important. It was where they scoped out potential victims, both on the streets and on a computer to ensure that each kill they made was someone who deserved death and not just prison time. Because, as Talon had pointed out, there was a fine line between a corrupt vigilante and a psychopath.

"Suit yourself," Arsenal said. Talon was already walking towards the window, shoving it open so that the two younger teens could climb out. As Arsenal passed Jason, the ginger squeezed his friend's arm. "Don't do anything _stupid_ while we're gone, okay?" Jason nodded, already turning back to the screen.

And he had made good on his promise. He'd stayed a perfect little _angel_ while his friends had been out on patrol. It wasn't until the next day that the devil inside took over.

Jason smirked as he placed the final touches on the modified Zeta-Tube he'd been tinkering with for the past three hours. He'd woken up early, before either Roy or Althea could stop him, gone to the nearest Zeta-Tube he could find, and set to work. Even though he wasn't quite the hacker Dick had been, or that this replacement _seemed_ to be, Jason did manage to dig up old, deleted files, until he'd finally reached his former designation: Robin, B-13. Jason smiled sadistically, the anger the Lazarus Pit had instilled in him waking with a vengeance. The monster inside of him purred.

He need to know, Jason argued with the rational part of his brain. He needed to know how good this _Tim Drake_ was for himself. And if breaking, entering and beating was the only way to do it, so be it.

* * *

"Where's Jay?" Roy asked. Althea blinked, looking up from the coffee cup that Roy had handed her just a few moments ago. The redhead was adding milk and sugar to his own mug, something that made Althea cringe. She liked her coffee dark and plain, fresh from the pot. _Black as my soul_ , she'd joked the first time Jason had asked how she liked the drink.

"Um…" Althea took another sip of the drink, exulting in the taste. "He's not in his room?" Roy shook his head. Althea frowned. "Huh." She was instantly concerned. It was an unspoken rule between the three of them that no-one went off with out informing at least one of the others _in person._ That meant no notes, no texts, and absolutely no sneaking off alone.

But Jason _had_ been acting off for the last few weeks. His temper had been even worse than usual, and he had just generally been in a shitty mood. In other words, he hadn't been particularly pleasant to be around. At all. He seemed to need someone or something to take his anger out on, but the streets had been slow of deserving people as of late. That, paired with his unhealthy obsession with this new Robin…Althea stood up as the worry washed over her. She could guess what Jason was about to do. She could tell Roy had come to the same conclusion because he, too, set his mug down with a clink.

"Let's go."

* * *

Roy lead her to the nearest Zeta-Tube, expressing his feelings that Jason would want to reach his target as soon as possible. Which meant…Zeta Beams. Sure enough, they found their friend there. His hands were covered with grease, but he was smiling in a cruel manner as he cocked a gun in his hands. He put the pistol back in his holster, looking up when Roy called out to him. He smirked when he saw them.

"Sorry, guys," he said, backing into the phone booth with the 'Out of Order' sticker slapped onto it. The light in the small room glowed. Roy's eyes widened, realizing that they were too late.

"No!" he shouted, just as the machine powered up.

"Recognized: Robin, B-13." Althea squeezed her eyes shut against the bright glow and when she opened them, Jason was gone. Roy rushed over to the Zeta-Tube, tapping on the screen. He swore loudly.

"That fucker," he muttered.

"Why? What did he do?" Althea asked, walking closer. Roy shook his head, irritation and concern shining in his blue eyes.

"He disabled this Zeta-Tube. Can't get anywhere on this one – we'll have to find the next closest one." He continued tapping on the screen, and groaned loudly. "32 Rowan Lane. It's only a mile away, but we have no transportation. We'll be too late." Althea narrowed her eyes, a plan forming in her head.

"I can get us some transportation," she said with confidence. Roy raised an eyebrow at her, silently willing her to explain, but Althea just smirked. "Come on." She sprinted out of the alleyway, Roy following close behind. The curly haired girl paused, looking around the street. She quickly spotted what she was looking for – a cyclist just climbing off of his motorcycle.

"Hey!" She ran up to the guy. He looked at her in surprise and she grabbed his keys, shoving two fifty dollar bills into his hand. "I need your bike. It's an emergency. Pick it up at this address." She plucked a pen from her pocket, scrawling '32 Rowan Lane' on his hand quickly. "I'll leave money for gas cost and any accidental damage done to your bike with it. Thanks!" With out another word, Althea hopped onto the bike, beckoning to Roy. He slid on after her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Althea turned on the engine and revved it, kicking up the gear and speeding away.

"What – what, hey!" Roy heard the guy yell after them, and Althea snickered.

"Didn't you do that once?" Althea yelled to Roy as she broke basically every traffic law ever, swerving around cars and pedestrians in her haste. Motorists slammed their fists down on the steering wheel, horns blaring loudly.

"Steal someone's bike? Run three red lights in two minutes? No." Althea laughed.

"Yeah, like I believe that. And anyways, I meant disable a Zeta-Tube to stop well-meaning friends from pursuing, dumbass." Roy smirked at the memory, remembering the surprise on Ollie's and the clone's faces. The reminiscence stirred part satisfaction and part wistfulness inside of him. He'd told Althea and Jason that story a few weeks after they'd met.

"I threw a grenade at it," Roy corrected. "That was different." Althea snorted from in front of him, pulling into an alleyway.

"We're here," she said. Althea, true to her word, parked the bike neatly in the entrance to the alley hiding the Zeta-Tube. She left another fifty-dollar bill, even though she hadn't used that much gas or harmed the bike in anyway, and leapt off. Roy ducked into the Zeta-Tube, quickly authorizing Althea for access.

"Do you know where he went?" Althea asked, and Roy shook his head.

"No. But I'm willing to guess."

* * *

 **THE WATCHTOWER**

 **SEPTEMBER 3O, 08:43 EDT**

The Zeta-Tube powered up, but Nightwing's attention barely wavered. He and Batgirl were supervising a sparring session between Robin and Impulse. The entire Justice League was busy neutralizing a threat in Hong Kong. The only people left in the Watchtower were Wonder Girl, Robin, Batgirl, the _new_ Kid Flash, Beast Boy and himself. The other members of the Team had been assigned to various covert missions. So when the Zeta-Beam powered up, Nightwing assumed that it was one of the squads returning from a successful mission. It was the designation that made him stop short.

"Recognized: Robin, B-13." Nightwing's heart dropped in his chest, and he spun around. He heard Batgirl gasp beside him, and then heard Wonder Girl shout a warning. But he head all of it like it was a million miles away.

"Get down!" She yelled. Nightwing watched as a small explosive rolled towards him as if in slow motion. It blinked red, the detonation throwing him off of his feet and into the unsuspecting Kid Flash. An all-too familiar face leaned over Nightwing.

"Jason…" he rasped, staring at his not-so dead little brother. The pain in his ribcage and head from the harsh landing almost matched the pain in his chest at seeing his brother again. Jason shook his head sympathetically, covering Nightwing's mouth and nose with a cloth. The acrobat coughed, choking as the scent of chloroform overwhelmed him.

"I _am_ sorry, Dickiebird," Jason whispered to his older brother as the world faded out right before Nightwing's eyes. "But I need to do this."


End file.
